Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    A Modern Chronicle — Volume 04
    A Modern Chronicle — Volume 04
    A Modern Chronicle — Volume 04
    Ebook123 pages1 hour

    A Modern Chronicle — Volume 04

    By Winston Churchill

    ()

    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 26, 2013
    A Modern Chronicle — Volume 04
    Author

    Winston Churchill

    Sir Winston Churchill was a British military man, statesman, and Nobel-prize winning author, and, by virtue of his service during both the First and Second World Wars, is considered to be one of the greatest wartime leaders of the twentieth century. Born to the aristocracy, Churchill pursued a career in the British Army, seeing action in British India and in the Second Boer War, and later drew upon his experiences in these historic conflicts in his work as a war correspondent and writer. After retiring from active duty, Churchill moved into politics and went on to hold a number of important positions in the British government. He rose to the role of First Lord of the Admiralty during the First World War and later to the role of prime minister, a position that he held twice, from 1940-1945 and from 1951-1955. A visionary statesman, Churchill was remarkable for his ability to perceive emerging threats to international peace, and predicted the rise of Nazi Germany, the Second World War, and the Iron Curtain. In his later years Churchill returned to writing, penning the six-volume Second World War series, A History of the English-Speaking Peoples, and many other historical and biographical works. Winston Churchill died in 1965 and, after one of the largest state funerals to that point in time, was interred in his family’s burial plot.

    Read more from Winston Churchill

    Related to A Modern Chronicle — Volume 04

    Related ebooks

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      A tender THREAD

      Dec 22, 2021

      A tender THREAD
      9 min read

    • Article

      The Man Behind Edna

      May 17, 2023

      The Man Behind Edna
      7 min read

    • Article

      The Telegram

      Jul 15, 2019

      There was an austere beauty in the fading light of the December afternoon, which suited her mood. Glints of weak sun shimmered through the stained-glass windows, lighting the white altar cloth and the wooden choir stalls. Connie’s hand slipped, again

      7 min read

    • Article

      THE DUKE OF Edinbrough Hotel

      Nov 13, 2019

      THE DUKE OF Edinbrough Hotel
      6 min read

    • Article

      Echos

      Jan 10, 2019

      Before Corrine’s husband abandoned her in Berlin, he liked to say that her name reminded him of the word “corrupt.” But ending in a twist rather than a split. Her last name was the French word for “swimsuit” but he never mentioned that. This seemed s

      17 min read

    • Article

      A tender THREAD

      Jan 5, 2022

      A tender THREAD
      9 min read

    • Article

      Green Ticket To Ride

      Feb 19, 2024

      Green Ticket To Ride
      8 min read

    • Article

      Commonplace Book

      Sep 1, 2021

      If any question why we died, Tell them, because our fathers lied. —Rudyard Kipling, “Epitaphs of the War,” The Years Between, 1919 She consulted me, a glance, and said: “I think not anything off the wagon. It arrives too quickly. Let’s have somethi

      4 min read

    • Article

      Wartime Memories

      Nov 11, 2022

      Due to my fondness for storytelling and recording everything that ever happened to me, my family and the world, I doubt I shall ever be that golden oldie who sits with a wide-eyed younger generation at my feet telling tales of yore whilst they gasp i

      3 min read

    • Article

      Four Of A Kind

      May 3, 2023

      Four Of A Kind
      4 min read

    • Article

      Chartwell Memories

      Nov 22, 2017

      Chartwell Memories
      5 min read

    • Article

      When Lizzie met Maggie

      Dec 13, 2023

      The Grim Reaper has been having a high old time of late. I've barely had a moment to keep up with my diary, I have been so busy writing letters of condolence, attending funerals and giving addresses at memorial services. I was especially saddened by

      3 min read

    • Article

      A Countryside For All

      Jun 29, 2023

      IT WAS ONE OF THOSE dinner parties that didn’t feel like it was going particularly well. Someone had just broken up with their girlfriend for want of someone else; my little puppy wouldn’t stop howling in the hall, and one of our guests was strung ou

      3 min read

    • Article

      Search PARTY

      Jan 13, 2021

      You find me hunched over the ironing board in the kitchen and thinking dark thoughts about Mrs Bertha Berman. Tell me honestly, is there any more soul-destroying occupation known to womankind than the ironing and attempted folding of fitted bed shee

      3 min read

    • Article

      Only a Fragrance

      Sep 1, 2022

      Only a Fragrance
      3 min read

    • Article

      Notes From The Isles

      Apr 14, 2023

      Yet again nemesis has smothered my hubris. Having boasted of my expertise in getting the car up our steep, icy track, I awoke to find myself snowed in, near the top of a glacier, totally cut off from all traffic. A nephew and his wife, who were comin

      4 min read

    • Article

      Life In The past Lane

      Aug 27, 2021

      Life In The past Lane
      5 min read

    • Article

      The Last Friend on Earth

      May 4, 2023

      It was as if Doreen Saunders had been waiting for me, passing the time until my arrival. She might as well have been sitting in a rocking chair, knitting needles clicking, jam tarts cooling on the side, the door wide open, waiting for the next visito

      6 min read

    • Article

      A Wonderful Life

      Dec 7, 2023

      A Wonderful Life
      3 min read

    • Article

      Pats On The Back

      Dec 12, 2019

      I AM writing this column from a prone position. Reclining on my sofa in the library, propped up with cushions like some latter-day Lady Ottoline Morrell, but without the wit, brilliance and patronage. I wish I could say my current condition arose fro

      3 min read

    • Article

      The Art Of Conversation

      Nov 1, 2023

      The Art Of Conversation
      4 min read

    • Article

      Return Of The Bores

      Mar 9, 2022

      All bores are boring but not all boring people are bores. There are plenty of innocent folk who like nothing more than to share their anxieties about the village fête with you – and they’ll do it for 20 minutes you’ll never get back. Yet these are ju

      3 min read

    • Article

      Confessions Of A Boggart Hunter

      Feb 24, 2022

      Seven or eight years ago I started to read compulsively about an English folk monster, the boggart. Studies, writing, articles and surveys followed. I launched my Boggart Census in 2019 in Fortean Times (more of which below) and there are now two boo

      14 min read

    • Article

      Confessions Of A Boggart Hunter

      Feb 24, 2022

      Seven or eight years ago I started to read compulsively about an English folk monster, the boggart. Studies, writing, articles and surveys followed. I launched my Boggart Census in 2019 in Fortean Times (more of which below) and there are now two boo

      14 min read

    Reviews for A Modern Chronicle — Volume 04

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      A Modern Chronicle — Volume 04 - Winston Churchill

      Project Gutenberg's A Modern Chronicle, Volume 4, by Winston Churchill

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: A Modern Chronicle, Volume 4

      Author: Winston Churchill

      Release Date: October 19, 2004 [EBook #5377]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MODERN CHRONICLE, VOLUME 4 ***

      Produced by David Widger

      A MODERN CHRONICLE

      By Winston Churchill

      Volume 4.

      CHAPTER VII

      OF CERTAIN DELICATE MATTERS

      In the religious cult of Gad and Meni, practised with such enthusiasm at Quicksands, the Saints' days were polo days, and the chief of all festivals the occasion of the match with the Banbury Hunt Club —Quicksands's greatest rival. Rival for more reasons than one, reasons too delicate to tell. Long, long ago there appeared in Punch a cartoon of Lord Beaconsfield executing that most difficult of performances, an egg dance. We shall be fortunate indeed if we get to the end of this chapter without breaking an egg!

      Our pen fails us in a description of that festival of festivals, the Banbury one, which took place early in September. We should have to go back to Babylon and the days of King Nebuchadnezzar. (Who turns out to have been only a regent, by the way, and his name is now said to be spelled rezzar). How give an idea of the libations poured out to Gad and the shekels laid aside for Meni in the Quicksands Temple?

      Honora privately thought that building ugly, and it reminded her of a collection of huge yellow fungi sprawling over the ground. A few of the inevitable tortured cedars were around it. Between two of the larger buildings was wedged a room dedicated to the worship of Bacchus, to-day like a narrow river-gorge at flood time jammed with tree-trunks—some of them, let us say, water-logged—and all grinding together with an intolerable noise like a battle. If you happened to be passing the windows, certain more or less intelligible sounds might separate themselves from the bedlam.

      Four to five on Quicksands!

      That stock isn't worth a d—n!

      She's gone to South Dakota.

      Honora, however, is an heretic, as we know. Without going definitely into her reasons, these festivals had gradually become distasteful to her. Perhaps it would be fairer to look at them through the eyes of Lily Dallam, who was in her element on such days, and regarded them as the most innocent and enjoyable of occasions, and perhaps they were.

      The view from the veranda, at least, appealed to our heroine's artistic sense. The marshes in the middle distance, the shimmering sea beyond, and the polo field laid down like a vast green carpet in the foreground; while the players, in white breeches and bright shirts, on the agile little horses that darted hither and thither across the turf lent an added touch of colour and movement to the scene. Amongst them, Trixton Brent most frequently caught the eye and held it. Once Honora perceived him flying the length of the field, madly pursued, his mallet poised lightly, his shirt bulging in the wind, his close-cropped head bereft of a cap, regardless of the havoc and confusion behind him. He played, indeed, with the cocksureness and individuality one might have expected; and Honora, forgetting at moments the disturbing elements by which she was surrounded, followed him with fascination. Occasionally his name rippled from one end of the crowded veranda to the other, and she experienced a curious and uncomfortable sensation when she heard it in the mouths of these strangers.

      From time to time she found herself watching them furtively, comparing them unconsciously with her Quicksands friends. Some of them she had remarked before, at contests of a minor importance, and they seemed to her to possess a certain distinction that was indefinable. They had come to-day from many mysterious (and therefore delightful) places which Honora knew only by name, and some had driven the twenty-five odd miles from the bunting community of Banbury in coaches and even those new and marvellous importations—French automobiles. When the game had ended, and Lily Dallam was cajoling the club steward to set her tea-table at once, a group of these visitors halted on the lawn, talking and laughing gayly. Two of the younger men Honora recognized with a start, but for a moment she could not place them—until suddenly she remembered that she had seen them on her wedding trip at Hot Springs. The one who lisped was Mr. Cuthbert, familiarly known as Toots: the other, taller and slimmer and paler, was Jimmy Wing. A third, the regularity of whose features made one wonder at the perfection which nature could attain when she chose, who had a certain Gallic appearance (and who, if the truth be told, might have reminded an impartial eye of a slightly animated wax clothing model), turned, stared, hesitated, and bowed to Lily Dallam.

      That's Reggie Farwel, who did my house in town, she whispered to Honora. He's never been near me since it was finished. He's utterly ruined.

      Honora was silent. She tried not to look at the group, in which there were two women of very attractive appearance, and another man.

      Those people are so superior, Mrs. Dallam continued.

      I'm not surprised at Elsie Shorter. Ever since she married Jerry she's stuck to the Graingers closer than a sister. That's Cecil Grainger, my dear, the man who looks as though he were going to fall asleep any moment. But to think of Abby Kame acting that way! Isn't it ridiculous, Clara? she cried, appealing to Mrs. Trowbridge. They say that Cecil Grainger never leaves her side. I knew her when she first married John Kame, the dearest, simplest man that ever was. He was twenty years older than Abby, and made his money in leather. She took the first steamer after his funeral and an apartment in a Roman palace for the winter. As soon as she decently could she made for England. The English will put up with anybody who has a few million dollars, and I don't deny that Abby's good-looking, and clever in her way. But it's absurd for her to come over here and act as though we didn't exist. She needn't be afraid that I'll speak to her. They say she became intimate with Bessie Grainger through charities. One of your friend Mrs. Holt's charities, by the way, Honora. Where are you going?

      For Honora had risen.

      I think I'll go home, Lily, she said; I'm rather tired.

      Home! exclaimed Mrs. Dallam. What can you be thinking of, my dear? Nobody ever goes home after the Banbury match. The fun has just begun, and we're all to stay here for dinner and dance afterwards. And Trixy Brent promised me faithfully he'd' come here for tea, as soon as he dressed.

      I really can't stay, Lily. I—I don't feel up to it, said Honora, desperately.

      "And you can't know how I counted on you!

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1